The Day They Went Dark
by Flashette
Summary: Almost a decade ago, Steve and Natasha paid the ultimate price for their country, dying in battle. Or, at least that's what the world thought.
1. Chapter 1

August 13, 2014. Mission Report: Last Radio Transmission.

"Cap. Widow. Status Report."

"Widow's down. I repeat, Widow's down. She took four shots to the chest."

"Medical Evac is on their way."

"They won't make it. She's bleeding out."

"Just hold on."

[Alarms begin to blare over the comms]

"Cap! Status!"

"Someone just sent a missile to clean up. It's heading our way."

"Take Widow and get out."

"There's no time. It's gonna hit in t-minus twenty seconds."

"Cap."

"Tony. I can't make it out with her in time and I sure as hell ain't gonna leave her."

"Cap!"

"There's nothing you can do Tony. Take care of the team, okay?"

[Explosion sounds. Comms crackle then go silent]

"Cap. Widow. Report."

[Radio silence]

"Captain America. Black Widow. Report."

[Radio silence]

"Steve. Natasha. Report."

[Continued Radio Silence]

[End of Transmission.]

* * *

On August thirteenth of 2014, the Avengers lost two of their own. Their bodies were recovered, both marred and burnt beyond recognition.

The memorial was held a week later. It was a beautiful New York day, and everyone has come to pay their respects to the fallen heroes. The Government built a Statue in their honor, placing one in New York, another in D.C.

After a few weeks, the world was back to normal. The Avenger's kept on mourning long after the world stopped, but slowly, they got on with their lives.

Thor returned to Asgard and none had seen him since.

Clint quit the team and refused to touch a bow ever again. He and Tony occasionally caught up over drinks, but Clint's interaction with the old team stopped there.

Bruce kept on with his science, eventually moving out to Utah with his fiancée, Betty Ross.

Tony was the last to move on.

He blamed himself for their deaths. He also blamed himself for the disbandment of the team. Steve had asked him to do one thing, and he screwed it up. He hated himself every day for it.

It took Tony years and years to finally let go and move on.

* * *

Almost a decade had passed since that fateful day. It had been at least five years since Tony stopped blaming himself for Natasha and Steve's deaths. He, and the rest of the world, had moved on.

Then Tony crash landed in their backyard.


	2. Chapter 2

Almost a decade after that fateful day, the world had moved on.

And slowly, so had the team.

Tony was the last to move on. It took him five years to let go of the guilt he held. He blamed himself for their deaths. If he had done _something_, maybe they would have lived.

But he had done nothing, and it took him years to come to terms with it.

* * *

After those five years, Tony was back to the billionaire, play-boy, philanthropist that the team knew and somewhat loved.

Pepper was more than ecstatic to have him back. The CEO and Tony quickly rekindled their budding romance and a few years later, finally tied the knot. Then seven years after that august night, Pepper and Tony had their first child, a beautiful daughter, which they named Maria Natalia Stark.

Little Maria was a small spitfire. She had darker red hair than her mother and inherited Tony's sarcasm and snark. Her favorite superhero, other than Iron Man, was the Black Widow. Young Maria would constantly cartwheel and flip around Tony's office saying, "Look Daddy, I'm the Black Widow. The Most Deadliest woman on earth!"

Tony would then reply, saying," That's nice honey." But every time, his heart panged with sorrow.

* * *

It was a breezy late December night when Tony decided to test his new suit. He was up to Mark 67 and he was hoping to work out a few bugs before the New Year.

Little Maria and Pepper were visiting some family in D.C., so it was the perfect time to work on the suit. So Tony put it on and headed out for a few test runs. The Mark 67 was still in the works and JARVIS wasn't fully functional in the suit, but it was just a short run. He'd be fine.

Unfortunately, Tony hadn't checked the weather first.

Tony hit a freak snowstorm about 50 miles out from the Tower. The wind and the sleet caused the joints in Tony's suit to freeze up, while also pushing him farther from home. Tony couldn't control the suit for much longer and he plummeted towards the ground below.

All Tony saw was white as he fell. The sky, the ground, all were the same shade of bright white. As he tumbled, he could make out some black, which he assumed were trees. Then, he broke through the ice at high velocity, shattering the once smooth, white surface.

He could barely see as he sank, the water was murky, except for the bright white sheet of ice that was slowly fading from him. As he was losing consciousness, he saw a dark figure dive in after him, then a hand, then black.

* * *

Tony regained consciousness as he was flung on top of the ice. His rescuer had managed to remove his helmet, allowing Tony air. After a few moments, Tony gasped back to life, looking around frantically. His vision was blurry and he could only make out a large, man-shaped shape in front of him.

"Easy there," the figure said.

Tony froze.

It had been ten years since he had last heard that voice. That very voice which belonged to a person who was supposed to be dead.

"Am I dead?" he asked.

"Afraid not. But you gave it your best try," the figure replied. Tony almost sobbed.

"S-steve?" Tony sputtered out, attempting to sit up in his frozen metal suit.

"Shh," the figure said almost silently before tapping his ears. "Not here."

Tony nodded slowly as his vision cleared. Steve seemed older, but a good type of older. Tony was about to ask him why he supposedly "aged" when a voice interrupted him.

"Dad!?" a child's voice called out. "Is everything okay?"

Tony's eyes went wide as he turned towards the voice. There on the shore stood a small boy, no more than four years older than his Maria. The child had beautiful dark red hair that reminded him of a certain spy from not so long ago.

"Should I get mom?" the boy asked.

Steve smiled at the boy before replying, "Yeah bud. Tell her I need a little help."

"Ok Dad. I think she's feeding Stella though."

"Tell her this takes precedence."

The boy nodded and ran up to a white Greek revival style home, which was located a little further up the hill from the bank of the frozen lake.

"Come on. Let's get you inside," Steve suggested, placing a sleeved arm under Tony's.

Slowly, Steve managed to get Tony to the bank without any issue. Then the young boy came running out of the house, a woman with fiery red hair in tow.

Natasha had never looked more beautiful.

* * *

A/N: Hey there! So yes this is a very short chapter, but it's all leading up to the bigger picture I swear. Hopefully I'll be able to write some more and make these chapters longer. Till next time!

Flashette


	3. Chapter 3

Tony felt like he was dreaming as he watched Natasha make her way down to the bank, her son in tow.

Natasha looked good, better than good. She looked happy. Her face was more relaxed, but always alert for danger. Her hair had grown out into long curls that framed her face beautifully. She seemed less sharp in her movements and carried herself with more grace and poise than he ever thought possible.

Natasha hadn't noticed him yet. She was currently focused on her son, who was dragging her towards the shore by the arm.

"James Anthony Rogers! What is the meaning of this?!" she proclaimed, managing to detangle herself from her son's grip.

"Dad needs help," James replied matter-of-factly.

"Then why didn't he come get me himself?" Natasha asked, clearly annoyed.

Steve chuckled at his irritated wife. Natasha turned to glare at him, but stopped abruptly when she caught sight of Tony.

"Tony?" Natasha asked weakly.

"Hey Lil' Red," Tony replied, his voice cracking with emotion.

Natasha became teary-eyed and looked to her husband, who was supporting Tony.

"How?" she asked.

"You'll have to ask him. But first, let's get him inside before he freezes completely," Steve replied, tapping the iced over suit for emphasis.

Natasha nodded and went to help Steve support Tony. Together they made their way up towards the house, James running up ahead of them.

* * *

Steve and Natasha's home was a quaint Greek revival waterfront home that was built in the early eighteen hundreds. It had recently been renovated to accommodate the growing family that resided inside. The house had a large front porch with a swing overlooking the lawn which sloped down to the lake.

The exterior of the house was old white paneling, which almost made it blend entirely into the snow if not for the warm light coming from the inside. Natasha had dressed the porch up festively, an evergreen wreath adorned the front door, along with a welcome mat and a few evergreen planters.

The interior was warm and homey, and Natasha had decorated it beautifully. Upon entering the house, there was a small foyer with a staircase that curved up towards the second story. The floors were the gorgeous original oak that came with the house. White baseboards contrasted beautifully with the warm tan walls. The décor was a mish-mash of differing styles. All the large pieces of furniture were modern, but the little details were from all different eras. In the living room, there was a medium sized, wood-burning fireplace that was the focal point of the room. An old Persian run adorned most of the floor-space in the room, a light grey L-shaped sofa sitting on top of it. The sofa was angled toward the fireplace, a small dark brown coffee table placed in between. Light brown, tan, and orange throw pillows decorated the couch along with a large cream throw blanket. The white built-in bookshelves in the living area were filled with treasures from old missions and picture frames that displayed their loved ones.

Once getting Tony inside the house, Steve and Natasha set him down on a metal stool that they had gotten from their eat-in kitchen. They scooted the stool close to the roaring fire in their fireplace, hoping that the warmth would melt his suit.

While the suit thawed, Tony caught a glimpse into the Rogers' family life.

The house was well-lived in, and looked like the family had lived there for a good decade. There were scuffs on the floor and dents in the walls, probably from James running around. There was a wedding album on the table and birth certificates framed on the wall. Toy cars and Legos were scattered about under the couch and a little league baseball trophy adorned mantle of the fireplace.

From what Tony had seen so far, James was a perfect mix of his parents. He was good and brave like his dad, but he was also a lot like his mother in that he could easily scare the living hell out of a full-grown man.

James was also the quietest child that Tony had ever met, period.

One moment Tony thought he was alone in the living room, de-thawing slowly. Then out of nowhere, a voice came up behind him.

"Excuse me."

If Tony could've jumped, he would've.

Tony turned his head to see James standing there with a mug.

"Uh, hi kid," Tony greeted, trying to compose his voice.

"James," the boy replied.

"What?"

"My name's not "kid", its James," the boy replied defiantly.

"Uh ok…Hi James."

James smirked triumphantly before he handed him the warm mug.

"Mom made hot chocolate. She said you may want some," James spoke.

"Uh thanks," Tony replied.

Tony attempted to drink the hot chocolate, but failed due to the fact that he still could not move his frozen upper body. Finally he gave up and just sat there, hoping the warmth of the drink would thaw his frozen hand. After a few moments, he became very aware of the soul-piercing stare that the small boy was giving him.

Cautiously, Tony turned and looked towards the boy.

"May I help you?" he asked.

James looked at him with an inscrutable gaze before nodding.

Tony gestured with his head to the couch, telling the boy to sit down.

James sat down very stiffly, his body language screamed wariness.

After a few moments of cold silence, James finally spoke.

"How do you know mom and dad?"

Tony smirked before answering.

"We used to be team mates, a long time ago."

James' eyes brightened and his posture loosened.

"Really!?"

Tony smiled, "Yep. Me and your old man used to save the world on a daily basis."

"How so?" James asked.

"We were a part of a team called the Avengers. We first came together to help defeat Loki and we fought off the Chitauri in the Battle of New York."

"And we all hated each other at first," Steve added from the doorway, holding a toolbox in his hands.

James and Tony both turned towards the doorway.

"Hi Dad!" James greeted.

"Hey buddy," Steve replied, ruffling the boy's hair as he came to kneel next to Tony. The super soldier set the old, slightly dented tool box on the floor and opened it.

"What's with the tool box?" James asked.

"Hopefully, it'll help me be able to get Stark out of this tin can," Steve replied, tapping the partially frozen metal suit with a screw driver.

"Yeah… A screwdriver won't work," Tony added.

"Well it's a good thing I kept this," Steve replied, pulling out a shiny disc like object.

Tony looked at in surprise, "You still have that? It was just a prototype. How on earth did you get your hands on that?"

"Natasha's always had sticky fingers," Steve commented before he switched on the disc and placed it onto the suit's chest. A whirring sound occurred, before the suit started to disassemble itself.

As soon as Tony was freed from his metal prison, his first action was to pull the super soldier into a desperate hug. Steve was warm, strong, and _real_. The millionaire held onto the man like a lifeline as tears threatened to fall.

"I thought you were dead," Tony whispered.

Steve shook his head and hugged him even tighter.


End file.
